Piano Man
by Unyielding Chaos
Summary: Even when I stop for a moment to look at that piano, I realize that he isn’t really there, and I have to keep walking. And every single time, I think it will hurt less the next time, but it never does. Written for kygirl's movie quote challenge on SHINE.


**This fanfiction was written for kygirl101's "Movie Quote" challenge on SHINE. The quote I chose is "I believe in music the way some people believe in fairy tales", from August Rush.**

It's been a long time since I've touched this dusty old piano. Usually I can convince myself I have something better to do. But sometimes when I pass by it, I stop for a moment. Sometimes I think I see him.

"_It's so beautiful. Tears just keep coming out."_

_He felt a tear on his own cheek, and he wasn't sure whether he ought to wipe it away or ignore it and pretend it wasn't there. If he left it there, somebody might see it, but if he wiped it away, somebody might suspect that there was something to wipe away. And he couldn't have that. His siblings seemed too engrossed in the music coming from the piano to notice if there was a drop of water on his face, but they might still see it if he raised his hand to get rid of it, so he opted to ignore it. After all, he couldn't have anybody thinking that the piano, being played by _that boy,_ had actually brought a tear to his eye._

Then I have to remind myself how long it's been.

Since I've seen his face, since I've heard the piano. I made a point of learning to play, myself, but I never could make it sound just the way he did. No matter how many chords I memorize or how many songs I can play by heart, it doesn't sound as silky and melodic as it did when he played for me. It's not enough to know the mechanics of it. If it were that simple, I'd have perfected it years ago. I can only play the music of someone else who's had the same sort of inspiration he seemed to have all of the time. But somebody like him can take the sheet music in front of him and use it to make his own music. And no matter who plays that same song, it will never be as beautiful as it was when he played it.

I'd give anything to hear that music again.

But even when I stop for a moment to look at that piano, I realize that he wasn't really there, and I have to keep walking. And every single time, I think it will hurt less the next time… but it never does. Still, I keep walking, because there are things to be done and there isn't any time to reminisce.

But as I'm getting older, I feel I have more and more time to spare, and there's almost nothing left to do, and it's about time I sat down at this old piano and felt that reminiscence that's long since overdue.

His music is on the stand, not mine. I stopped playing a long time ago. I can hear him playing it in my head, but when I touch the keys, it's not the same. Each note sounds just a little off, but I know that it's not the tuning. It's not that I'm too stiff, and it's not that there's anything wrong with my piano. I know why it doesn't sound right. But just as I'm about to give up and get on with my day, I think I feel his hand on mine.

"_No, it's like this," said the blond boy who had leaned in over Kyouya's shoulder and taken over the piano._

"_I know how to play, Tamaki."_

"_Then how come you're doing it wrong?"_

"_There's nothing wrong with the way I'm doing it."_

"_Kyouya, you can't play piano if you don't feel the music!"_

"_You can't feel music."_

"_No wonder it doesn't sound good! Here, let me show you!"  
_

And then I remember that there's no one there. There hasn't been anyone there for a long time. And every time I see this piano, I remember that there never will be anyone there again. But it's worth remembering that I lost him, to be able to remember the days when I had him. If it wasn't, I would have gotten rid of my piano years ago.

We met because of our fathers' businesses, and we became friends because of the host club. But it was this piano that brought us together. This is something that I will always believe to be true. And if I can keep passing by this piano for the rest of my life, and think I see him, and hear the piano playing in my head as if he were sitting right there playing it for me the way he used to, I can be okay with the pain a second later when I realize that he isn't really there.

Maybe it's just a piano. And maybe I'm just seeing things. And maybe I should just get back to work because playing piano isn't going to bring him back to life.

But if I can see him, maybe he can see me, too. Maybe he really is there. Maybe he doesn't want to let go of that piano any more than I do. Maybe the piano doesn't want to let go of him. Whatever the case may be, that piano has always been the one thing connecting me to Tamaki. All I ever wanted was to hear him play, and all he ever wanted was for me to listen.

I'm still listening, long after he's stopped playing. That's why I believe that this isn't the end. Someday I'll hear him play that piano again. Because the ever after must be lived happily.


End file.
